It might be a book club you no longer wish to be a part of. A hobby you've lost interest in. The committee you felt coerced to be on. The church event you never really liked in the first place. Whatever.

Just stop. Say no. Respect your time and space. And because your needs matter, insist that others respect them, too.

And when you remove that thing, what do you do with the space you've created?

You can fill it with something you're passionate about or that fulfills you. You can reflect on what you DO and DO NOT wish to do in your life. You can even use it to do a whole lot of nothing. And that's okay.

What you fill it with, OR WHETHER YOU FILL IT, is up to you.

The absence of that "just one thing" might possibly give you perhaps the smallest portion of breathing room you need in order to see things more clearly, create some space in your life, and see what's really important. TZT

From the upcoming book The Zen Teacher: Creating Focus, Simplicity, and Tranquility in the Classroom:

THE FIVE-MINUTE ACCEPTANCE TEST

When something unexpected or unwanted happens, try to be present and non-judgmental. Accept the situation and look for the gifts the situation offers. This process won’t take longer than five minutes, so whatever happened will still be there when you’re done. But at least you will have attempted to embrace what it is, instead of giving in to knee-jerk reactions. Practice with smaller, less important issues at first before moving up to the issues in your life that might be larger and more difficult to accept.

THE ONE-MINUTE ACCEPTANCE PLAN

Pick a circumstance that is not in synch with your expectations. Find a quiet place and start meditating (or at least breathing). Then say, "This does not meet my expectations. How can I find a way to accept what's happening and see the gifts this situation offers? What can I learn from this circumstance that will take me where I wish to go?" Do this often, and before long, you will yourself better able to accept circumstances that do not meet your expectations. TZT

*I figure if you average the Five-Minute Acceptance Test and The One-Minute Acceptance you get Three Minutes of Acceptance (did I do the math right?) and that's at least close to 2-Minutes of Zen.

I’m here to say that your work—the long hours, the frustrations, the false starts, the creativity, the hours spent in mindless meetings, and the thousand lesson plans a year—are all appreciated and are not taken for granted by the rest of us.

Your effort—day after day, year after year--is meaningful and it helps people.

You make a difference in your students’ lives in ways that neither you nor they nor even society may ever fully comprehend.

You do, indeed and in fact, touch the future.

The work you do in the classroom saves lives. And that’s no exaggeration.

So I’m here to say keep the faith.

I’m here to say that if you’re feeling burnt out, stop and rest.

Be still.

Reach out.

Ask for help.

Hang in there.

Because we need you in the profession.

It’s important that we keep the good ones.

What you’re doing is important and, yes, I know you don’t hear that nearly often enough.

While it’s not unusual for kids to set up an occasional lemonade stand, the stand my two daughters and their friend set up a couple days ago was far from usual.

First, they decided that offering the ice cold beverage would not be a “for profit” enterprise. They said this lemonade stand would be all about the old saying, “When Life gives you lemons, make lemonade.” They said they “just wanted to give back to people and make them feel better,” so they decided to stand on the street corner next to their card table waving a sign that said, “Free Lemonade,” with another sign that referenced the old adage.

Needless to say, I was very proud. But on the designated day of the lemonade stand, one of my daughters woke up with an even better idea.

“We’re missing the other part,” she said, still groggy from sleep.

“What’s that?” I said.

“We’ve got the lemonade,” she said, “but we’ve forgotten about the ‘lemon’ part. People need to give us their lemons. And that’s why they get the lemonade.”

When I asked her what she meant, she said, “We’re going to take some pens and Post-It notes and they can write down their ‘lemons’ and leave them with us, and that way they’re getting rid of their ‘lemons’ and that’s why they get the lemonade, just like the saying says.”

I was speechless: My daughter had just taken a lemonade stand and turned it into a kind of Communion.

By the end of the day, they had handed out 46 cups of free lemonade and gathered (as you can see in the picture above) a basketful of Post-It notes (including my own, which involved a water bill that, for some reason, had come in twice what it usually was).

Some of the other Post-It notes came from the lady concerned about her son because he had been recently been making poor Life choices, the college student who was stressed out over her classes, and the group of construction workers who laughed at their construction worker friend jotting a note until he very seriously said, “No, I’m doing it.” Later, my daughters and their friend realized that his Post-It note concerned his young son’s recent diagnosis of Glaucoma.

From the stories my daughters told about their lemonade stand--the people who came by and their reactions and interactions with stand’s proprietors, and the sincerity and depth of the little, yellow notes--I have no doubt that it was a moving and powerful experience for the people who dropped by that street corner that day to enjoy a little libation. And this, despite the fact that none of them realized that their Post-Its notes would later be prayed over by the three young girls--a simple act which added yet another, more profound, layer to the process.

I recently wrote two blog posts on Kindness, but make no mistake: This lemonade stand experiment showed me that I had no idea what I was talking about, that I had no idea what real kindness looked like.

Please learn from my daughters about the true nature of giving, caring, and kindness.

"If you do good, you'll feel good." --Ann Curry, Television journalistWe often hear about random acts of kindness. And I get what they mean, of course. These gracious gestures should be unexpected, spontaneous, serendipitous. Because that's always fun. But my feeling is, why must they be random? Why can't they be conscious acts of kindness, created and executed by design, a habit of giving that we nurture and cultivate. If kindness became manner of traveling instead of random and isolated bumps along the road how, I wonder, would that change our path?So here, as promised yesterday, is a list of ways to be kind both inside and outside the classroom that can help make kindness a part of your journey:--Be present in the moment with your children as they tell the stories of their day.--Thank someone.--Smile. Then do it again. Lather, rinse, repeat. All day. To everyone.--Hang back and let that other driver in. Make this your driving default position. --Give a student an old book you think he or she might like.--Put old binders and office supplies on your desk with a sign that says "Free to a Good Home."--Take the time to write someone a note, instead of merely sending a text or email.--Ask a colleague how he or she is doing. . .really. . . .and then listen to the answer.--Paraphrase and repeat back what someone has said so they feel listened to.--Think about writing that snarky comment on that on-line article or Facebook thread. And then don't.--Bring a plate of cookies to a convalescent/nursing home. I did this with my daughters and highly recommend it.--Breathe before speaking.--Come to someone's metaphorical rescue.--Come to someone's literal rescue.--Say a prayer for the people broken down on the side of the road.--Give up control of the remote. No, really.--Walk the shopping cart back to the shopping cart holder-thingy.--Do something nice anonymously. Then smile like the Cheshire Cat.--Speak one fewer complaint today. If everyone did just this, think of the number of complaints that would be missing from the world. --Resist the burning temptation to go for your phone when someone is talking.--Volunteer.--Forgive.--Have a friend going through a tough time? Burn a CD (do we still do this?) with his or her favorite songs.--Hug who will hug you. --Call your parents.--Comment an another teacher's blog. Not necessarily this one. Okay, maybe this one. Okay, just go to the bottom of this post and start typing.--Hold the door.--Say thank you to the unsung heroes of your school--janitors, groundskeepers, secretaries, cafeteria workers. --Offer the technician some ice water or cookies. Or both.--Lend your umbrella to an umbrella-less student.--See that lemonade stand on the corner run by those adorable kids? Drink up!--Don't take your frustration with the organization out on the person answering the phone. Or even the customer service representative who helps you. They didn't cause the problem.--Practice patience with those who most test your patience.--Make sure a piece of trash that wasn't yours finds its way to a receptacle.--Google "Acts of Kindness."--Put extra snacks in your file cabinet for your hungry kids. This is a staple of my classroom.--Tell someone when you overheard someone else say something nice about them. --Before reacting to a student's misbehavior, stop to consider the story and motivation behind the outburst.--Figure out a thing that's on your spouse's To-Do List and then do it so he or she doesn't have to.--Give the old baby clothes in the garage to someone who you know might need them. Notice I said give, not sell.--Let someone else have their way.--Keep your word.--Feed your family, feed your neighbors, feed your students, feed the homeless, feed yourself.

--Feed your mind, feed your soul, feed your spirit.

--And perhaps, most importantly, remember to be kind to yourself by gifting yourself with enough time in your day so you feel less rushed, less stressed, and more in control.

--Lastly, make your own list.

Cultivating kindness as a way of life is both fulfilling and, in many ways, subversive.So be a rebel.

Most of the world’s most spiritually enlightened thinkers and philosophers have emphasized the importance of kindness, compassion, and love. As we see above, The Dalai Lama certainly feels that way, but so did Jesus, Gandhi, Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr., as well as many others.

And yet, instead of showing kindness, people are spending a lot of time these days being offended instead. In the (typically erroneous) name of righteous indignation, the "death" of morality, and the fall of the nation, people are busting a gut over wedding ceremonies, flag designs, immigration patterns, and are up in arms over, well, arms.

The great thing about kindness, though, is that it knows no political, religious, geographical, gender, orientation, or ethnic bounds. It is entirely non-partisan and non-denominational.

You can be kind to anyone, anywhere.

Even animals. Even bugs.

Even One Direction fans.

And of course teachers possess a unique responsibility for kindness. More than just understanding kindness as a professional obligation, we are “called” as educators who touch the future to display and model compassion—to the academic underachiever, to the grumpy administrator, to the mis-behaver, to the bully, to the mediocre colleague, to the social outcast. Our sacred mission--in addition to teaching about commas, or polynomials, or ceramics, or The Magna Carta--is to extend grace and love to the best and the least among us. And to do it willingly. And skillfully. And adroitly.

And sometimes that's just a big fat hassle, isn’t it? Sometimes it isn’t convenient. Or fun. Or we feel the recipient doesn’t deserve it (which is the number one reason to DO it, by the way). I’m the first to confess that sometimes I don’t WANT to show someone mercy, or empathy, or patience. I just don’t. Especially if I feel that the person in question has in some way made my life more difficult.

But the truth is: Showing someone kindness really isn’t really that hard.* And if you look at the list of luminaries mentioned above, you'll soon see that giving away even a little kindness can change the world.

So ask yourself:

Who can I be kind to today?

Who can I serve?

To whom can I extend grace, love, and compassion?

Whose life can I make a little bit easier?

Whose burden can I lessen?**

Go on. Give it a shot.

Even if it doesn’t it doesn’t work so well.

Even if it crashes and burns.

Because not only do I guarantee that the more kindness you give away, the more happy, fulfilled, peaceful, and full of Zen you will feel, but also because the more you do it, the better you’ll get.

And you know what? When it comes to giving away kindness. . .

We all need the practice. TZT

*In a day or two, I'll give you some suggestions about how you can show kindness.** Coincidence that "lessen" sounds like "lesson?" I think not!

“Fall down seven times, stand up eight.” -- Japanese proverb This morning I got into a little back and forth with a driver who was tailgating me.

I could have changed lanes. I could have slowed down and let him pass. I could have shown him some zen-inspired lovingkindness. I could have, as an old friend suggested, generated compassion and empathy by imagining that any driver who is speeding and tailgating must, of course, be transporting a sick child to the local hospital’s ER. But I didn’t. I engaged him. I tapped my brakes to let him know he was too close. And then it became a thing. Before I knew it, we were exchanging impassioned words and frenetic gestures--Words where we questioned the others’ genetic heritage and gestures that, at first, began as random and abstract expressions of confusion and frustration, but eventually evolved into nonverbal gestures with specific messages attached. In short, I participated in just about every single behavior that I use this blog to advise you against. I’m not proud of my behavior. I stumbled. I ignored my Zen training and fell off the road rage wagon. And since I cannot change what happened, I can only begin by standing up, brushing myself off, and honoring my Zen philosophies by accepting my behavior, not judging myself too harshly, and recommitting to a life approach of lovingkindess and compassion.So it’s all right to stumble. In fact, it’s unavoidable and inevitable. The key is to acknowledge it, own it, and recommit to the walk. And remember, just because we’re going to stumble doesn’t mean we’re not on this journey together.The lesson here is two fold:

Brainpickings.org, a website devoted to thought, culture, and what it means to be human, recently did a story on the noted Vietnamese Buddhist Monk Thich Nhat Nanh and his concept of a “hugging meditation.”

They quoted the Zen Master as saying that when you use hugging as a form of meditation and connection, “you have to really hug the person you are holding. You have to make him or her very real in your arms, not just for the sake of appearances, patting him on the back to pretend you are there, but breathing consciously and hugging with all your body, spirit, and heart. Hugging meditation is a practice of mindfulness. 'Breathing in, I know my dear one is in my arms, alive. Breathing out, she is so precious to me.' If you breathe deeply like that, holding the person you love, the energy of your care and appreciation will penetrate into that person and she will be nourished and bloom like a flower.”

Though I wish it had happened differently, I have recently gained fresh insight into Hanh's ideas.

***

Two weeks ago, on a Thursday afternoon, a car accident that occurred directly outside our campus took the life of an 11th grade athlete and honor student. According to the police, there were no extenuating circumstances—no drugs, no alcohol, no cell phones, and no speeding. It was just an awful combination of circumstances and some inexperienced drivers who made a few misguided, but sadly irreversible, choices.

Like everyone, I was shaken and devastated, though I didn’t know the boy who died, nor anyone else involved in the accident. That very night there was an impromptu candlelight vigil on our track and, following the vigil, the crowd ran a lap to honor the boy’s participation on the track and field team. The following day was one of the hardest, most difficult days I’d had in my two decade career at the school. Other students have died during my tenure, but somehow this one was different.

In the time since, I’ve heard many teachers talk about how impressed they were with how we pulled together and how we supported each other. They talked about how it was sad, of course, but also talked about how our response as a school community was inspiring and beautiful and uplifting. The most amazing thing was to see so many people throughout the course of the following day just crying and hugging, all day long, all over the campus--no matter who they were, what they were doing, or where they were headed. People just came together wherever they were and held each other.

Held each other to connect. To grieve. To embrace. Even to begin to heal.

Two times that day, for example, my classroom door opened and a student walked in. In a fortuitous set of events, it happened to be in the two classes where I was showing a movie that day. As an incidental fact, the students in both cases happened to be female. Both times, in different periods, the girls walked in, came right up to me, put their arms around me, and just hugged me for a moment. And then, in both cases, each girl just walked back out the door, having never uttered a single word.

During those moments, I was not worried about Professional Distance, or people getting “The Wrong Idea,” or about Making the Right Choices, which was the euphemistic name for our district’s in-service that cautioned the faculty and staff about the consequences of inappropriate relationships with students. I didn’t worry about any of that.

In that moment, making the right choice meant deciding to be human.

It meant embracing not only the person, but the connection with that another person.

It meant comforting someone who was suffering. Without an agenda and without hesitation.

It meant being there for someone.

It meant recognizing that we were alive and that our lives were precious and ephemeral and that we never knew what the next moment would bring.

Because, as we were eloquently reminded, not a one of us does.

***

Later in their article on Thich Nhat Hanh’s thoughts on hugging meditation from his book How to Love, Brainpickings.org quotes Hanh as saying, “When we hug, our hearts connect and we know that we are not separate beings. Hugging with mindfulness and concentration can bring reconciliation, healing, understanding, and much happiness.”

Many of us at my school (myself included) were reminded, the day after the accident, how right Hanh was, and many of us were the recipients of the healing nature and meditative grace of embracing. It was a time when words were woefully inadequate to express the depth of our feelings and sense of loss, so we held each other and it helped.

We were simply there. In the moment. Holding each other. And it was enough.

What could one say?

In fact, much like those girls who hugged me silently and then left without a word, it was impossible for me to articulate to my students how I felt that day; I just didn’t have the words. So I started each of my classes by just saying with a great depth of sincerity and increased emphasis, “I’m glad you’re here. Really, really glad you’re here.”

Start by addressing God, the Deity of Your Choice, The Universe, Mother Nature, or for all I care, The Great and Powerful Oz.

Next, utter your sincere and heartfelt thanks.

Mine kind of looks like this*: Thank you for yet another beautiful morning here in San Diego. Thank you for letting me walk in silence during my 5 a.m. walk, and allowing me to be present and mindful enough to notice the stars, the bunnies, the humming streetlights, and the pre-dawn frost on the windshields of cars I'll never be able to afford. Thank you for giving me a roof over my head and enough to eat. Thank you that I’m not struggling with physical pain, like so many others I know. Thank you for my two amazing, wonderful daughters—their intelligence, their wit, their studiousness, their industry, their big hearts, and most of all, their health. Thank you for a job I have passion for, that challenges me, and that I consider my calling, especially when I am faced with those who loathe their job and are always waiting for 5 o’clock or Friday or both. Thank you for Writing—first, for my ability to think and second, for the freedom and skill (and fingers) to capture those thoughts on paper or screen or blog. Thank you for bringing people into my life at the right moments to help me conquer my challenges; they are gifts that have not gone unnoticed and unappreciated.

There are others, Oz, but you get the idea.So mostly, thank you for yet another beautiful morning here in San Diego. TZT*Note: tomorrow’s list would be entirely different.

After a busy weekend I noticed I’d left some unfinished water bottles in my car. Even though my habit is to recycle the bottles, I realized the waste of pouring the old, now warm water down my kitchen sink. Men, women, and children around the world were literally dying for a drink of water and here I was, pouring it down the drain. It reminded me of the story of the monk who, after coming back from a monastery, labeled everything—house, electricity, water--to remind himself that the things we take for granted are, in fact, modern miracles. It’s this kind of mindfulness that came to me as I watched the liquid spilling into the sink: the importance of recognizing what we have. That not everyone has what we have. That we are luckier than we think. So I’m going to look for opportunities to hold things up to the light and say, “Look, I have this.” And see how many times I can say that. It’s not the only road to happiness, but you can't beat the scenery. TZT

Two great ways to be a Zen Teacher is to appreciate what you have and to care about and serve others. These two approaches--being thankful and taking care of others--create a sense of purpose and fulfillment that, in turn, helps you be centered, peaceful, and content.Compassion. Learning to care about and minister to the suffering of others can be a powerful expression of your personal Zen. Ironically, when we see someone in need and come to his or her aid, we often feel better ourselves, knowing that we have helped. This could be the student who has tried the math problem twenty times and still can’t get it, the administrator who is asking for a chaperone for the dance, or the novice teacher struggling with the unruly class who desperately needs your veteran wisdom on classroom management. The main questions to ask, then, are “Who is in need? Who can I help today?”

Gratitude. A readiness to show appreciation and to express a humble thankfulness is a powerful way to keep ourselves centered and remind us of our blessings. This, in turn, increases our sense of peace and contentedness. Maybe you’re grateful to the parent who donated supplies, the book clerk who got you the books you needed in time for the next big unit, the duplicating clerk who ignored the two-day turn around rule and had your worksheets ready that afternoon, or the colleague who spent her prep period listening to your sob story about period 7 (it’s always the last class, isn’t it?). The main question to ask yourself is, “Who can I thank?”

Making compassion and gratitude a way of life increases your sense of tranquility and happiness not only in teaching, but the rest of your life as well. TZT